


For Science

by Sed



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: F/M, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-26
Updated: 2012-05-26
Packaged: 2017-11-06 01:18:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quorra accidentally walks in on Flynn while he's in the nude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Science

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a line from [Oft's fic](http://oftohgodwhat.tumblr.com/post/23717092084/part-1-part-2-more-asskicking-and-finally-some). I once said I would never write this pairing, and based on the (lack of) tags I'm wondering if everyone else said the same thing.
> 
> This is set about 3 years after the coup. I may write more, I'm not sure. I probably will. This was surprisingly fun.

Flynn liked to wear what he called “house clothes,” Quorra had discovered. The loose-fitting pants and flowing robes were nothing particularly unusual in her estimation; Iso fashion being no exception, there were a variety of cuts and styles to be found on the Grid. Although his garments were a quite bit less formal and bright than those found on the programs in the city.  
  
The strange part was how often he changed them. It seemed pointless to rez up multiple sets of clothing, and even more so to change in and out of them every square hex. He had told her it made him feel more at home, and while she accepted this explanation, and understood that the Grid wasn’t like the user world, it still seemed like a waste of data on either end.  
  
Over the cycles she had adapted to his rest patterns as well, trying to mimic them. She had also taken to studying his ways and learning more about users through a combination of curious observations and regular queries. He seemed amused, and sometimes anxious to teach her all about his world. When she asked for her own room he obliged, tooling a new wing from the crystalline rock and expanding the Grid analog he’d fashioned in haste after his retreat from Tron City. It made the dwelling symmetrical, she noted, which seemed oddly reminiscent of the reason he was forced into the Outlands to begin with. She never mentioned the similarity, though.  
  
It had been over 200 cycles since then, and Quorra had adapted rather well to their routines. They ate dinner in the “evenings” and sat together talking for “hours” – vague chronological measurements she found fascinating that had the added effect of easing her progress through Flynn’s literary collection. Through study she eventually found that he had been away from his own world for more than three years, and while that seemed to be a very small number from her perspective, it clearly marked a much greater passage of time for him. It was why she never questioned his idiosyncrasies, why she simply watched and listened.  
  
She found sleep to be an exceedingly difficult habit to form. For her it was merely system downtime; letting her memory functions comb through data and filter information into the proper tables to be accessed at will later. This she could do standing, eyes open, sometimes even while speaking—although that occasionally led to embarrassing information leaks. However, to truly mimic a user she had to learn to shut down all external processes. Instinct told her not to, but to simply lie still and wait for Flynn to wake, but she wanted to experience authentic sleep. She wanted to dream.  
  
One evening she “awoke” to find that less than an eighth of an milicycle had passed since she had stored her suit and gone to bed. Her memory crawl had completed far ahead of its average projected estimate; a frustrating sign that she wasn’t getting enough stimulation. She considered how long it had been since she’d left the safe house, and wondered if Flynn would advise a trip in the light runner he had created earlier that cycle. Throwing her sheets to the side she sat up, and noticed immediately that the light in Flynn’s room was still on, indicating he was awake. It presented her with a perfect opportunity to ask about taking a trip outside. Sliding from the bed Quorra rerezzed her suit and slipped out of the room, heading for the other end of the house to find him.  
  
When she reached Flynn’s door she found it open, a bar of light spilling into the hallway, and a soft, repetitive sound filtering out from inside the room. Pushing aside the door she stopped abruptly; Flynn wasn’t on the floor, exactly—he was just above it, hands flat on the pristine white surface, arms bent outward as he balanced on his toes and pushed himself up and down, exhaling hard each time he dropped. He faced the far end of the room, parallel with the bed. The activity was strange enough, but his nudity was another matter entirely. Flynn had never been undressed in her company before.  
  
Although, she supposed, he wasn’t exactly in her company at the moment. She considered retreating, but random numbers collided at just the wrong time and Flynn dropped to his side, rolling onto his back and bringing his hands up behind his head. Just as he pulled a knee up to his chest he froze, wide eyes locked on hers.  
  
“I’m… sorry,” Quorra muttered. She dropped her gaze to the floor. It seemed a much more appropriate response than staring, which did present itself as an option. When Flynn failed to respond she looked up again. “Flynn?”  
  
If anything he looked more embarrassed than she felt. “Q, what are you doing? I thought you were in bed?”  
  
She shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep. I haven’t quite,” she paused, frowning and looking to the side, “mastered it.”  
  
For a moment he stared at her, his body still frozen in a taut curve that looked as though it couldn’t be very comfortable. With his one leg bent and suspended above his abdomen, there wasn’t much she couldn’t see with spectacular clarity. Flynn caught up to her a moment later and dropped to a more dignified position, rolling onto his hands and knees to get up. Quorra found that _also_ afforded her a rather fascinating view. She tilted her head as he straightened himself. “Q,” Flynn said, dragging her from her observations, “I’m a little… exposed? Do you mind turning around so I can get my clothes?”  
  
She obliged and spun to face the door. “You know, if you kept the file in your disc, you could rerezz your suit without needing to access external storage. It’s something to consider.” The small talk helped take her mind off _other_ things. A little.  
  
“Thanks, I’ll definitely think about that. What, uh, what did you want?” She could hear him moving across the room, and then the hiss of drawers opening, followed by the sound of him rifling through the stacks of cloth he kept piled neatly inside each. His voice still carried an awkward edge that made her curious.  
  
“I wanted to know if you would mind…” she turned her head to the side; not much, just enough to watch him slip a white shirt over his arms and pull it down. His lower half was still bare, and the sight of the white cloth falling over the slight upper curve of his backside made something in her kick just a notch higher than normal. She wasn’t familiar with that process, whatever it was. “If you thought it was safe to…” he bent down again to search through yet another drawer. “Flynn.”  
  
“Quorra, that’s not a question,” Flynn muttered as he tossed articles aside, searching for something specific, apparently. She didn’t respond, and he turned quickly, catching her in the act. “This privacy thing, it’s another concept that’ll take some getting used to, huh?” She had turned away, but he remained facing her, so she assumed looking in another direction was no longer necessary and turned back to him. The pants in his hands were draped over his front, covering what he seemed most concerned about exposing. Quorra found the rest was just as interesting, however, and let her eyes roam, taking in the sharp curve of muscle above each hip, the flat plane of his abdomen, bisected by a neat trail of dark hair. Lower and she felt that same stirring sensation when he shifted a bit and the defined muscle of one thigh flexed to accommodate his movement.  
  
“Flynn,” she repeated again. She was barely aware of saying it.  
  
“Q? Are you okay?” he asked, but something in his voice told her he was more aware of what was happening than he let on. Still, he was polite enough not to draw attention to it. So she did.  
  
“Flynn, you’re…” her memory spun madly as she searched for the appropriate declaration. “I feel you’re very attractive,” she said finally.  
  
That didn’t seem to unsettle him as much as her staring had. He looked to the side and laughed a bit, and for some reason she reacted to _that_ , too. “Thanks, I guess. Quorra this really isn’t—this isn’t appropriate.”  
  
“You’ve been teaching me,” she said quickly, before he could gain any more traction, “everything. So teach me about this.” She gestured to him, mostly aiming her hand at the region he so carefully covered.  
  
“I can’t—”  
  
“Flynn, I would really like to know more about your body. About a _user’s_ body.” That seemed to ‘do the trick’, as he liked to say. He turned back to her, and for a micro she thought she saw his face change color. That was unlikely though, as he had no circuits there. At least none that she was aware of. She seized the opportunity and stepped toward him; when he didn’t back up or pull away she took that as a positive sign and reached out a gloved hand to touch his chest. He swallowed—perplexing, since he hadn’t ingested anything—and looked down to watch her hand as it made contact.  
  
“Q…”  
  
“You should remove this,” she said, plucking at the white fabric. “And I will remove my suit as well.” It made sense; full tactile exploration would offer the most information, but Flynn balked at the suggestion.  
  
“Now, wait a second—okay, let’s stop. This is—this has gone too far, Quorra, Q, you’re—” he stammered, reaching for her hand. She had already started the process of derezzing her suit, however, and at the sight of the black material fragmenting and disappearing, revealing bare shoulders strapped with pale glowing lines, he paused. “Q what are you thinking is gonna happen here, because I’m not… oh, Jesus.” His eyes had followed the progress of the broken black pixels, stopping when they curved over the swell of her breasts. He had no more to say after that.  
  
“It’s research, Flynn,” Quorra said. She pulled at his shirt again. “This?”  
  
“Oh,” Flynn said numbly. He was still staring down at her nude body. “Yeah.” Head down and eyes fixed, he ripped the shirt from his chest and threw it to the side. It landed in a crumpled heap beside the bed. “Just to learn, right? It’s not really… there’s nothing wrong, then.”  
  
Quorra nodded and brought both hands to lay flat against his chest. The brush of hair beneath her fingers made her smile; it tickled if she touched it lightly, and apparently Flynn experienced a similar sensation, judging from the way he squirmed under her touch. Her hands slid lower, and she brushed the tips of her forefingers over his nipples. That earned a much stronger reaction, and a moment later Flynn had his arms behind him, gripping the edge of the shelf above the drawers. Quorra tore her eyes from the symmetrical pack of muscles below his sternum. “Please tell me if I make you uncomfortable,” she asked.  
  
Flynn barked out a laugh. “Are you kidding? You’re—no, you’re not kidding. Just… _ah_ ,” whatever he had intended to say was lost in a sigh as she turned her hands so that her fingers pointed down, and let them glide over the ripple of muscle descending his stomach, making sure to touch the trail of hair that marked her course. She stopped, and Flynn let out a breath she wasn’t aware he’d been holding in. “Maybe you should go somewhere else,” he said. She wasn’t sure if he meant on his body, or in the safe house, but she chose to believe he meant the former, and her decision met no resistance.  
  
“This might be easier if you lie down,” she suggested, indicating the bed with a tilt of her head. Flynn nodded and stumbled backwards. His legs touched the edge of the bed and he fell into the tangle of sheets with a bounce, supporting himself with his hands and attempting to sit up. Quorra took to the bed beside him and pushed at his chest until he was flat against the mattress. With a thoughtful stare she went to work, hands roaming along his legs and hips, sliding down between his thighs and coming up slowly to cup what she found there. “What are these called again?”  
  
“Uh—balls?” Flynn ventured. He was changing color again; this time she was sure of it. “You know, programs and Isos have these too—ah _god_ , Quorra, don’t squeeze!”  
  
“Sorry! And I know, I just… I never paid much attention,” she said.  
  
“It’s fine, it’s just… they’re sensitive.” He slapped a hand over his face and groaned.  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
Through parted fingers she could see his eyes swivel up before he looked at her. “Someday I’ll teach you about the concept of humiliation,” he muttered.  
  
“I understand _that_ , but what is there to be humiliated about?” Her hand slid up past his balls and grasped his erection. “This? I know what this is, Flynn, that much I learned.”  
  
“Oh, Q, please don’t touch that. I’m sorry that even happened, it’s really hard—I mean difficult—to control.” He tried to turn his hips and dislodge her hand, but she held him just tight enough to remain in place—not too tight, having assumed that sensitivity was an issue in the region. “I should have rezzed you an anatomy book,” Flynn groaned, and he bit down on the heel of his palm.  
  
“This is much more informative.” She let go and moved on to his hips, bringing both hands between his body and the mattress until she grasped his backside. It was difficult from that angle, however, so she lifted one leg and straddled his thighs.  
  
“Q, no! That’s too much!” He had tangled his fingers in his hair, both palms pressed against his eyes. Quorra turned to look behind her and saw his feet dragging against the mattress, toes curled tight. A memory parcel fell into place and she started at the realization that she was aroused—not just aroused, but _aching_ for the body that writhed beneath her touch. She was no fool; her exploration of Flynn’s form was obviously having an effect on him, but until that moment she hadn’t quite considered the implications. The _possibilities_.  
  
“I’ll move somewhere else, alright?” she offered. Flynn let his arms fall to his sides and nodded his approval. The relief on his face quickly turned to shocked horror as Quorra slid up his body, never lifting herself from him. When she passed over his erection he cried out and shuddered, and Quorra had to brace herself against his chest to stay upright.  
  
“You have to be doing this on purpose,” he breathed. “What did I ever do to you?”  
  
She was about to lift her palms from his chest when she noticed a peculiar, rhythmic beat below his skin. It was moving fast, like someone pounding against him from the inside. “What is that?” she asked.  
  
“My heart, and I’d say it’s about to explode, but luckily most of the blood it would be pumping is busy somewhere else. Q, please, _please_ , you have to stop. Okay? You have to—oh god what are you doing now?” He leaned his head back and let his mouth fall open as she pushed back just enough to slide against his erection. Her hands gripped his shoulders, gently kneading the muscles there.  
  
“You’ve done this to yourself before. I thought, if you’re nervous, this might help.” She had never taken the time to interface with another program, to learn the bodies of her fellow Isos. The chance to experience the body of a user—of Flynn, the _creator_ … she shivered at the sight of his neck arched and his eyes shut tight as he grunted quietly in time to her movements.  
  
“Quorra… enough,” he whispered, opening his eyes just a bit. When she ignored him he caught her wrists and snarled, “ _Enough_.” Quorra stared at him, and for a moment she feared she’d gone too far. His eyes were dark and fixed on hers, and she could see his jaw flexing. She opened her mouth to apologize, to ask him not to be angry, but suddenly she was tumbling, falling to the other side of the bed in a tangle of sheets and limbs. She  closed her eyes against the flurry of motion. When she opened them Flynn was above her. He stared down with the same smoldering glare, and when she broke away from his gaze she caught sight of his erection, stiff against his stomach. “I told you enough, Q. I’m trying very, very hard to… I don’t want to be that kind of man. I don’t want to take advantage of your—this curiosity.”  
  
Quorra could feel every circuit burn across the length of her body, thrumming quietly on the outside but absolutely pounding on the inside. She met his eyes again, and as they stared at one another she slowly spread her legs, sliding them up past his knees and letting them fall open, baring every part of herself to him. His breath was ragged as he leaned down to look first at his own hands where they still gripped her wrists, and then between their bodies, to the blatant offer presented to him.  
  
“Flynn,” she whispered, and then he moved—so fast she nearly yelped in shock. He released one wrist and took hold of himself, sliding into her just enough, just barely spreading her open. She moaned and bucked against him, urging him to continue. “Yes, please…”  
  
“Quorra, we should stop.” His body shook with the effort of keeping himself still; she could see him shivering, and it only intensified her own desire. She knew he was fighting himself.  
  
“Tell me what it’s like,” she asked. “What you do.”  
  
Flynn breathed out a half-laugh, half-exasperated sigh. He dropped his forehead to her chest and took a deep breath. “If we’re going to do this,” he said, sounding resigned to the inevitable, “we should do it right.”  
  
That sounded fine to Quorra. She made a disappointed sound as he withdrew again, and then he leaned forward to kiss her; something she actually _was_ familiar with. His tongue pressed past her lips and slipped next to hers, over and around it, curling wickedly and urging her to join in. She answered the challenge and brought her free arm up to wrap around his neck. When he moved to settle his full weight atop her smaller frame she feared at first that he was too heavy, but she soon found the pressure of his body was comforting, even stimulating, and when he released her other wrist she reached around to grip his shoulder, feeling the pull of muscles as he twisted his body and ground against her. He slipped one arm under her back and held her, while the other hand reached down to fondle her breast, pinching and rolling the nipple, making her gasp into their kiss. When he pulled away it was to trail a line down her jaw, along her collar and then between her breasts. Still working one nipple with his hand, he wrapped his lips around the other, sucking gently at first, and then harder, barely scraping his teeth across the sensitive flesh and flicking his tongue across the tip. Quorra grabbed at him and tried not to moan; she bit her lip against a sound and Flynn stopped. “Make all the noise you want,” he said hoarsely, “okay?”  
  
She nodded emphatically and threw her head back against the mattress as he turned to the side and swept his tongue over the dark bud between his fingers. “Flynn, please,” she gasped. “It feels good— _too_ good. It’s too much.”  
  
Flynn laughed hard, and she could feel his warm breath against her skin. “Q, you have no room to talk,” he said. Quorra moaned and arched against him, and he sat up as she settled back against the mattress. She looked down, half-lidded eyes questioning, and then once more followed the dark trail down his abdomen to his hard length. Flynn wasn’t watching this time, though. He slipped a hand between her legs and swept his fingers up, tracing the line of her slick opening. He brought the hand up to his mouth, watching her, and Quorra felt like she would derezz from the wave of arousal that rolled over her as she watched him suck his fingers clean. Then Flynn grabbed her thighs and pushed them apart roughly, lowering himself until his mouth was against her sensitive mound, tongue quickly probing and sliding into every delicate fold. Quorra cried out and bucked her hips, and Flynn wrapped his hands around her thighs to keep himself in place. She could feel every breath, every sweep of his tongue; even the rough drag of his facial hair over her thighs sent sparks of pleasure crackling along her body. He pressed his twisting tongue into her, over and over, and then moved back up again, pressing it to an especially sensitive spot she knew well. Her whole body shuddered and she reached for him.  
  
“Stop,” she said, knowing what would happen if he continued. Flynn froze. “I mean—not yet.”  
  
“What do you want, Quorra?” He sat up and moved forward again, leaning down to claim her mouth. “Anything,” he said between kisses, “just ask. You can have it all. Tell me you’re ready.”  
  
She wasn’t sure, but her body certainly seemed to feel she was. With a roll of her hips she nodded, and Flynn reached down to take hold of himself again. “You asked me to tell you what it’s like,” he groaned. She could feel his rigid shaft sliding between her legs; so close to slipping inside, but he continued teasing, running it across the wet mound until she whined and pushed against him. “I’ll be inside you,” he said with an upward sweep. “And then,” he pushed against that same sensitive spot between her legs, making her shudder. “Then I’ll fuck you, _hard,_ and—oh _god_ , I can’t…” he took one final shuddering breath, and then the last of his reserve was gone; he leaned hard against her and did exactly as promised, pushing into her and spreading her open further than she thought safe. Her body took it, though, and he filled her until she could feel him brush something else, something deep inside that throbbed like a circuit, but softer, spreading that dull ache through her body to the tips of her fingers and back. He stopped for a moment, kissing her jaw and cheek, sweeping his tongue over her lower lip and then bowing his head as he arched his body and pulled back, only to drive forward again. Quorra made vague sounds, trying for words but failing as Flynn moved inside her, faster and faster, until he was jerking his hips and thrusting so hard she felt her body slide up the mattress in small increments. He leaned up and braced himself on his forearms, watching her as each motion jarred her body and bounced her breasts. “You don’t know, Q, what you did to me,” he panted, watching her, “sliding over my cock like that… I wanted to take you right there, grab you and slide into you,” he rocked his hips side to side and continued. “You wanted that, didn’t you? You wanted me to fuck you.”  
  
“ _Yes_ ,” she admitted, wrapping her legs around him. He made a noise she couldn’t place and then he was slamming into her, and she held on tight.  
  
“Tell me,” he breathed against her, “tell me how it feels.”  
  
She searched through the haze of arousal and the blur of sensation, and then groaned _“Amazing,”_ as he pushed deep enough to graze that spot deep inside her body. “It’s so warm, and _hard._ Tell me more,” she panted. “What happens next?”  
  
Flynn groaned and pushed hard. “I’ll come,” he said, and Quorra tilted her head to look down at him.  
  
“Where?”  
  
“The plan,” Flynn said, “is inside you.” When she wrinkled her brow in confusion he moaned and leaned in to kiss her. One hand left the bed and reached between their bodies, where he fingered the sensitive spot she enjoyed so much, rubbing hard and making her gasp and twitch. Her leg kicked of its own accord and she gripped his shoulders tighter.  
  
Quorra could feel herself approaching an overload. She’d done it for herself before, knowing just where to touch and which circuits to press as she rocked against her own hand, but it was different with Flynn inside her. It felt stronger, more urgent, and she was powerless to push it aside. “I’m—”  
  
“I know,” Flynn said. His strokes became longer, more labored, as if he too were trying to prolong the moment. His fingers moved quickly, and he buried his face in the pillow beside her neck. Quorra’s thighs shook and she arched against him as she hit the moment of overload, feeling the rush of energy and pleasure that broke over her like a crashing wave. Flynn went still inside her for just a moment, and then he bucked and cried out, thrusting into her harder than before, and she felt a heat and pressure fill her that was at the same time both entirely alien and incredibly exciting. His body trembled as he slowed, and then he stopped, hips twitching just a bit as he withdrew from her. When he was out he collapsed against her for a moment before rolling to his back beside her on the bed. His chest heaved and he reached up to run his hands through his hair. “Quorra,” he began, sounding worried.  
  
“Flynn that was _fascinating_ ,” she exclaimed. She sat up and looked down between her legs, reaching to touch the slick, white fluid that leaked from her onto the sheets. “Is this what you meant? Why would you call it _coming_? It’s more like _going_. Directionally speaking.”  
  
Flynn sighed, and the sound tapered off in a gentle laugh. “That’s something else. I can’t believe we did that. I’m sorry, Q.”  
  
“Please don’t be,” she said, turning to him. “I enjoyed it. I only wish I had a basis for comparison, but it seems users are both alike and different from programs in many, many ways. How did you know to stimulate me the way you did?”  
  
He turned his head and fixed her with a bemused look. “User women work the same way,” he said with a shrug. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”  
  
Quorra nodded. “I don’t feel you ‘took advantage’ at all, Flynn. If I hadn’t wanted to do this, I _would_ have stopped you.” She was certain her strength far outclassed his, despite his obviously great stamina. Not that she believed him capable of such a thing. Flynn seemed to accept that answer, and with another disbelieving laugh he rolled onto his side, facing her, and closed his eyes. She bent down to watch him for a moment. “Are you sleeping?” she asked.  
  
“That’s the plan.”  
  
“Do users often require sleep after interfacing?”  
  
He opened his eyes and frowned. “Are you telling me you’re not exhausted?”  
  
She considered his question, running a quick internal check. “I do believe I could sleep.”  
  
“Here is fine.” He patted the bed and closed his eyes again. Quorra smiled and positioned herself next to him, facing him so that her head was tucked under his chin. A strong arm wrapped around her shoulders and she closed her eyes, willing herself into a downtime cycle as she listened to him breathe.


End file.
